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Kristina was a tall, long-legged girl with a mass of jet-black hair falling into her face and halfway down her back. She didn’t like to tie her hair back. Her raven mane was a distraction to the other team, and during the Ivy League play-offs she had been ordered to tie it up. She did, but by the end of the game the hair was all over her face anyway.
Here on the driveway of Frankie’s fraternity, Phi Beta Epsilon - one of the least notable frat houses on Webster Avenue or Frat Row, as the Dartmouth students called it - Kristina never tied her hair. They played at an old regulation post with a rusted, netless hoop. Kristina didn’t care. Two-on-two was great practice for her. It made her quicker.
Today, however, her hands were slippery; they kept dropping the ball, which even the five-foot Conni intercepted from her. Kristina tried to pass the ball from one hand to the other behind her back but she failed completely, and Conni and Albert got the ball and the shot. They all laughed at her, but Kristina’s mind was on Howard; she didn’t laugh back. Usually she could spin in the air as she jumped up to sink the shot. Not today, though she was clearly the best player out of the four.
At the end of each successful shot, Kristina high-fived Jim and held on to his fingers the way she always did. He let her, but the moment she let go, he let go also.
Kristina chewed gum as she played. Once when she came down hard on her feet, she bit her tongue. She spit out the gum and some blood with it.
Frankie kept penalties, shouted fouls, and kept score on a Post-it note. Chewing gum, he sat on a folded blanket, legs drawn to his chest. His ski cap was pulled over his ears.
When they came back to him, Kristina asked the time.
‘Fifteen minutes after the last time you asked me,’ Frankie said. ‘See, each game is fifteen minutes. That’s how I know. In a hurry?’
‘No, no,’ Kristina said hastily, pouring water all over her face.
‘Come on, let’s play.’
‘Give us a break!’ exclaimed Conni. ‘Five minutes.’
‘No, I’m pumped,’ Kristina said. ‘The teams?’
Conni looked at Kristina levelly. ‘Gee, Krissy, I don’t know. What do we usually do after Albert and I lose to you?’
‘We play the boys?’
‘Now that’s an idea.’
Kristina wasn’t going to let Conni’s peeved sarcasm get her down. ‘Great. You boys need a handicap?’ Conni was her handicap, but Kristina would never say that out loud.
Jim pushed Kristina against the basketball pole with his shoulder. ‘I have a good feeling about this game,’ he said, kissing her lightly on the cheek. She turned his face toward his and tried to kiss him on the lips, but he moved away from her. There was coolness in his eyes.
He’s upset about last night, Kristina thought. Later. Later.
Kristina and Conni beat Albert and Jim 18-16. ‘Wow, you boys came very close,’ Kristina said when the game was over. Jim’s game was off. He ran a little slower, threw the ball a little lower, and didn’t intercept the ball from Kristina or block her. She could almost swear Jim was gritting his teeth as she played, but then she wrote it off as her guilty imagination. Then what is that crunch underneath his jaw with every dribble of the ball? Kristina thought.
‘Don’t you patronize us, Miss All-Ivy,’ said Jim. ‘After we’re done here, let’s run a mile and see who’s gonna come close to who.’
Kristina thought she could run a mile in four flat right about now. What’s the time? What’s the time?
‘What’s the time, Frankie?’
From his sitting position, he glanced up and handed her the watch. Twelve forty-three. Kristina was wet from sweat. Seventeen more minutes.
In fifteen minutes, Kristina and Albert beat Conni and Jim 40-8. Kristina ran after every ball, marking and blocking even Conni, whom Kristina usually left alone. As if running faster would make the time go faster.
‘Good game,’ Kristina said afterward, breathing hard.
Conni said, ‘I really prefer basketball as a spectator sport. Like when I go to see Krissy kick Crimson’s butt.’
‘Yes, but you’re a good sport, and that’s the only thing that matters,’ said Kristina.
‘Is it? The only thing that matters?’ Conni asked pointedly, looking at Kristina. ‘Me being a good sport?’
‘Sure,’ said Kristina noncommittally.
Albert stepped in. ‘No,’ he said, putting his arm around Conni and smiling suggestively. ‘There are plenty of other things that matter.’ That made Conni smile and allowed Kristina to grab her backpack off the brown grass.
‘I’ll catch you guys later.’
‘Wait!’ Conni called after her.
Coming up to Kristina and lowering her voice, Conni said, ‘I thought you were going to help me, you know - with the - uh - you know - the…’ glancing meaningfully in Albert’s direction.
‘Oh, yeah, cake,’ Kristina whispered.
‘Shhh…!’
‘Shhh… sorry.’ Kristina was quieter, but inside her engine was revving so high she could barely hear herself speak. ‘I gotta go now.’ Now, now, now, her inner voice was shouting. ‘I’ll come by later, okay?’
‘Kristina! The nuts, the hazelnuts, they all gotta be choppéd, finely. It’ll take me forever. And then the icing - come on.’
Leaning down to Conni’s ear, Kristina said, ‘I have to tell you something about that…’
Just then Jim and Albert walked over to them, and Kristina didn’t get a chance to tell Conni that Albert hated nuts, especially hazelnuts.
‘What are you guys cooking up here?’
‘Nothing, nothing,’ said Kristina quickly.
Conni threw her hands up. Jim laughed, and Kristina tried to move away. ‘I’ll see you later,’ she called out to them, catching Albert’s eye. He was staring at her. She looked away and wiped her wet forehead.
‘Wait up!’ Jim caught up to Kristina. ‘Hey.’ They walked in silence down Webster Avenue, to North Main Street, amid the bare trees. Some students on the front lawn of Alpha Beta Gamma House were setting up a huge turkey piñata.
Kristina was hoping Jim wouldn’t notice how fast she was walking and wouldn’t ask her about last night. He didn’t, but what he did ask was worse. ‘Wanna have lunch?’ Jim said.
‘Lunch?’ Kristina was flummoxed. She hadn’t really expected to disappear after their weekly basketball session without Jim’s noticing, but in the almost three years they’d been going out, Kristina had never told Jim about Howard, and she wasn’t going to start now when a new period in her life was about to begin. They turned right at the corner of North Main Street.
‘Jim, I’ve just got to write that death-penalty piece for the Review. I’m late with it as it is.’
He squeezed her neck as they were walking. ‘You got a little time.’
‘Yeah? That’s not what you said yesterday.’
‘Yesterday?’ He took his hand away. ‘I didn’t see you yesterday, Kristina,’ Jim said pointedly, and Kristina flushed.
‘Yes, you did. Yesterday morning.’
Jim shook his head. ‘No. Not in the morning. Not last night.’
Kristina tried to suppress a sigh, but it escaped anyway between her dry and tense lips. ‘Oh, yeah, last night. I went to Red Leaves House last night.’
‘Red Leaves, huh?’ said Jim. ‘How often do they make you work Saturday nights?’
Red Leaves was a home for pregnant teenagers where Kristina had done work-study since her freshman year.
‘They usually don’t. But Evelyn - you know -’
‘Yeah, I know of Evelyn. What about her?’
‘She’s real pregnant -’
‘Oh?’ said Jim. ‘That’s not unusual for Red Leaves House, is it?’
‘And depressed,’ continued Kristina nearly without stopping. ‘She needed me, so I-I stayed over.’
‘Stayed overnight?’
‘Sure. I’ve stayed overnight there before.’
‘Yeah, yeah, yeah.’
His tone was still skeptical, but relief showed on his face. Kristina laughed and said, ‘God, you look like I just told you you won the lottery.’ She ruffled his hair without breaking her stride.
‘No,’ he said, his face becoming impassive. ‘This is much better.’
Kristina was almost shaking with anxiety. Thank God they were walking and Jim couldn’t see her legs trembling. She took his hand. They were just past Baker Library and near Tuck Mall, down which they all lived. She wanted Jim to leave her there and not follow her to Main Street.
‘You’re cold,’ Jim said.
‘No, why do you say that?’ Kristina said, taking her hand away and wiping sweat off her face again. ‘I’m like hot lava.’
‘Your legs, they’re twitching.’
Kristina was wearing black spandex shorts and a Dartmouth-green T-shirt. ‘You’re right, I’m freezing,’ she said.
Eyeing her carefully, Jim said, ‘Hey. What’s going on with you?’
‘Nothing,’ she said quickly, smiling as widely as possible. ‘Nothing at all.’
She saw that he didn’t believe her, his suspicious expression deepening. ‘Come on, have lunch with me,’ Jim said.
‘Can’t, Jimbo, sorry. Gotta do the work before Thanksgiving. Have way too much stuff to do.’
Sighing, he said, ‘Oh, well, I’ll come with you to the office then. I’ve got some work to do there myself.’ Jim was the editor of the Dartmouth Review.
‘Oh, God!’ Kristina exclaimed. She was at the end of her rope. ‘Jim, please! I just need a couple of hours. I just need to think and sit, and just be alone to put together my thoughts. Okay?’
He stopped walking, and she stopped with him but continued to walk in place.
‘Will I see you later?’ he said.
‘Jimbo,’ Kristina said, mustering a tone of tenderness. Mixed with her frustration and anxiety, his nickname came out quick and husky, caressed and spit out at the same time. She cleared her throat. ‘Jim, of course you will. We’re studying at four, remember? I’ve got basketball practice at two. I’ll see you, okay?’
‘Why don’t you just move in to Leede Arena?’ Jim said grumpily. ‘You’re always there.’
‘Jimmy, I have to go to practice. You know that. I didn’t become All-Ivy on talent alone.’ She grinned.
‘Is your work suffering?’ His tone was still sour.
‘Well, I’m not making Dean’s List this semester, if that’s what you’re asking.’
He nodded, and then almost as an afterthought said, ‘You know, I looked everywhere for you last night. Everywhere.’
She didn’t say anything, and he continued, ‘Even in the library stacks.’
Reaching out, Kristina touched his face. ‘I’m sorry. I should’ve told you I was at Red Leaves.’
‘I wish you would’ve. I couldn’t fall asleep till, like, one. Kept calling your room.’
‘One, huh?’ Kristina managed a smile. ‘That’s about two hours past your bedtime, isn’t it?’
‘Ha-ha,’ said Jim.
‘Gotta go, Jim,’ Kristina breathed out. ‘I’ll see you later.’
He leaned over and kissed her, and she kissed him back and walked away, stepping up her pace until she was running. The laces on her torn Adidas were loose, and Kristina stopped for a second to tie them, dropping the backpack she was carrying. She ran from McNutt Hall to Collis Café before she noticed. She ran back, picked it up, and sprinted under the Dartmouth-green awnings of Main Street straight toward Peter Christian’s, the basement joint.
Oh dear, here we go, Kristina thought, as she took three deep breaths and stepped inside the darkened restaurant.
‘Sorry I’m late,’ Kristina said, plopping herself down across from Howard, who smiled politely.
‘This is not too bad,’ he said, speaking precisely and slowly, looking at his watch. ‘It is only fifteen minutes.’ He put two sugars into her coffee and added some milk. As always Kristina thought it was strange and incongruous to hear him speak such perfect English. She leaned over to kiss him.
‘Why are you so wet?’ he asked, wiping his cheek.
‘We were playing basketball. I get all sweaty.’ She smiled, taking a napkin and running it over her face. Howard just looked at her.
Kristina took a sip of coffee and grimaced. ‘The coffee is cold,’ she said, putting her cup down. She didn’t want Howard to see her fingers trembling.
‘You sound like you have a cold,’ he said.
‘Howard.’ Kristina was amused. ‘Are you making a play on words?’
‘Why are you surprised by that? I do have a sense of humor,’ he said seriously.
‘I know you do, Howard,’ said Kristina, gently patting his arm from across the wooden table. ‘I know you do.’
